


Now Your Mess Is Mine

by delighted



Series: Mess [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 16:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: Danny’s a bit of a mess after his breakup with Melissa. Grace enlists Steve’s help in cheering him up.(Yeah, call this another Fantasy Series Seven story.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JeffreyAlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeffreyAlan/gifts).



> I think probably I could have a standard note on all my stories: “Well, this one didn’t go where I’d thought it was going to....” Because, yeah, that happened again. Several times. The original inspiration was Vance Joy’s “Mess is Mine,” which is another song I think works well for the boys, and where the title comes from.... Anyhow, it kind of evolved from there.... This would have been a “The Best Medicine.” But it’s not. Because it kind of got away from me.
> 
> J, at first I wanted this one to be for you, because it makes a nice thematic set with the other two. (And because a few other reasons.) Then I didn’t want it to be for you, because I got a little carried away and didn't want you to feel responsible for where it went. (Because that is absolutely all on me.) And then, it became utterly for you again.... (And, really, that's just kind of perfect.)
> 
> Just a little note: contains references, but no outright spoilers, to “The Night Manager.”

Steve was expecting the call.

He wouldn’t have said he was sitting by the phone, waiting for it. But he had rearranged his day so that he would be ready when he thought it was most likely to come.

Grace was the one who had tipped him off, and he’d already decided she was getting a new surfboard for Christmas this year. She was getting taller, so she needed it anyway. But he owed her big time for this. Big.

This was big alright. At least, Steve hoped it was. He really, really, really hoped it was.

So maybe when the call came in he didn’t sound as shocked at Danny’s obvious messed up state as perhaps he should have.

“Hey, buddy, how you doing?”

“Gracie told you.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah, buddy, she was worried about you.”

Danny took a breath in, but didn’t say anything.

“Have you eaten?”

Danny grunted.

“Can I come over and cook for you?”

“I don’t have any food....”

“I know. I have stuff I can bring....”

“Gracie?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, babe. I won’t refuse that. Thanks. Tell Gracie thanks, too.”

“How’d you know—” Steve started, but then decided not to touch that one. “Okay, I will. I’ll be over in a bit.”

Danny sighed, then hung up.

Steve went to the fridge and pulled out the stuff Grace had told him to get. He packed it all up, then texted Grace.

_You were right. Heading over to feed him. He says thank you._

She replied almost instantly. _Thanks, Uncle Steve! Give him a huge hug for me. xo_

Steve smiled. _Sure thing. Thanks, Gracie._

Steve looked around the kitchen to see if he was forgetting anything. On impulse he grabbed a bag of coffee and a bottle of whisky and some fresh cream from the fridge.

He threw his duffel over his shoulder, grabbed the packed cooler and headed out to the truck.

* * *

  
Danny answered the door in torn sweats and a threadbare tee shirt, his hair was uncharacteristically mussed, he clearly had not shaved, and Steve had never seen him look hotter. Well, other than the fact that he was clearly feeling very beat up, emotionally. But still. Rumpled Danny was a look Steve wouldn’t mind seeing more of.

“Sorry for the mess,” Danny said, as he moved aside to let Steve in, but not enough, so that Steve had to brush against him as he carried the cooler in. He could have sworn he heard Danny inhale deeply as he went by.

“Hey, buddy, that’s okay, I don’t mind.” He looked around and saw Danny for once wasn’t kidding. I mean, Danny’s house was typically a bit... chaotic. With two kids, even if only infrequently, it was kind of to be expected. Add to that Danny wasn’t actually home much, and then this recent drama with and split from Melissa, and Grace had warned Steve it would be a bit more of a mess than usual.

Steve carried the cooler into the kitchen, Danny tagging behind him like a puppy, curious to know what goodies were in store.

“What’d Gracie have you get?” Danny asked, and Steve was pleased to note his tone seemed a little lighter than it had been.

“First things first,” Steve said, and opened a beer and handed it to Danny.

Danny grinned somewhat weakly. “Thanks, babe,” he said, and took a sip.

Steve opened his duffle and pulled out a bag which he emptied into a bowl he found in a cupboard. He set it in front of Danny and heard a soft gasp.

“How....?”

Steve smiled, pressed his lips together. Grace had said that one would be worth the effort. “Did I get it right?” He asked, as Danny took a handful of the snack mix.

“Peanut M&Ms, chex, pretzel goldfish, cashews, spicy and a little bit sweet.... You even left out the raisins. Seriously, babe, how?” He sounded in awe, and Steve decided it was a sound he liked from Danny.

“You do realize that your mother and daughter email. Quite a lot, apparently. They both share being worried about you, especially lately.... Anyhow, that suggestion came from your mom.”

The truth was a little bit more complicated than that, because apparently neither of them had been especially fond of Melissa. Luckily for Steve, they were both very fond of him, so when Grace had tipped her grandmother off that Melissa was not long for Danny’s life, she’d sent Grace her recipe for Danny’s favorite childhood “rainy days and Mondays” treat with the suggestion she pass it on to Steve.

Steve continued unpacking, turning the oven to 350, getting a sauce pan out. Danny stood at the kitchen island, eating the peanut M&Ms out of the mix (Steve had been warned that would happen, and had extras in his bag), and watching Steve with fascination.

While he was busy with the food, each item eliciting gasps and smiles from Danny, Steve kept an eye on his partner’s body language, watching his posture lift, watching his slump straighten... just slightly, mind—this breakup had been a long time in the coming and had beaten Danny down for quite some time. Steve knew recovery wouldn’t be a swift thing, but the signs were looking hopeful, and that made Steve very happy. He finished his unpacking of goodies with the bottle of whisky, bag of coffee beans, and another something he snuck into the freezer when Danny was distracted stirring a pot on the stove.

With things in the oven and on the stove at a nice, low simmer, Steve opened the bag of potato chips, emptied the dip into a bowl, and grabbed both in one hand, two beers in the other, and ushered Danny towards the living room.

“Come on, Danno, Gracie said she left us something on the DVR.”

“Oh, god, probably some awful romance, no thank you.”

“No, she promised we’d like it.”

“Huh.” Danny pulled up the list and scrolled through it. “Ah. She’s hilarious. ‘The Night Manager,’ you seen it?”

Steve’s eyebrows went up. Grace had asked him about that a while ago. He’d missed it when it had been on, but had wanted to see it after Grace had told him what it was about. Grace and her friends had all watched and loved it, which had Steve questioning Stan and Rachel’s parenting skills, but they’d had a few interesting conversations about arms dealers and the international weapons trade. He wondered at Grace’s choice, and how she’d gotten it on Danny’s DVR... but decided not to think too much about that.

Danny looked sideways at Steve. “What exactly do you talk to my daughter about, huh?”

Steve blushed.

“Alright, well, you’ll love this one, that’s for sure.”

They sat down on the sofa, Danny having to move aside blankets and pillows, and doing so in such a way that they had to sit awfully close together, which, to be completely fair, they did most of the time anyway. It wasn’t till they’d sat down and Danny’d pressed play that he grabbed a chip and looked in the bowl.

“You have got to be kidding me. Veggie soup mix dip?” The grin that spread across his face when he took his first bite made Steve take a drink of his beer so he didn’t smirk too hugely. “You’re playing for all the points, aren’t you babe?” And he slipped an arm over the back of the sofa, pulling himself in even closer to Steve who didn’t mind, not one bit.

They stayed like that, pausing only to grab the food from the kitchen when it was ready, more nibbly things: stuffed rolls, meatballs in a sweet, tangy sauce... all of which left Danny sighing contentedly and Steve feeling awfully proud.

When the first episode was over, Steve pulled reluctantly away from Danny.

“Let’s get you out of the house for a bit, huh?”

Danny actually whined: “Do we hafta?”

Steve bit his lips on his smirk, but insisted. “Yeah, I think it would be good. Just a walk around the block.”

“That’s Steve code for a ten mile hike, isn’t it?”

Steve laughed and stood up. Holding out his hand to Danny: “No, it’s not, I promise.”

Danny sighed but took Steve’s hand. “’Kay. ‘S’long as you promise there’ll be treats at the end of it.”

Steve couldn’t repress the smirk at that. “Maybe. If you’re good.”

Danny shook his head, bemused, but smiled. “I’ll try,” he whispered. “But you don’t make it easy.”

It took an awful lot for Steve to _not_ smack Danny on the ass for that one.

* * *

  
They wound up going for a lot longer than one block, but Steve let Danny lead, and he kind of started rambling, going on about Melissa, and what had happened, blaming himself a lot more than Steve believed was strictly plausible. Steve didn’t really want to be hearing all this, but he knew Danny needed to get it out, so he made sympathetic sounds, and slowed when Danny slowed, sped up when Danny sped up, and just tried to be a supportive presence. At some point Steve became aware of their surroundings and with a start hoped to goodness that Danny knew where they were, because he had, uncharacteristically, not been paying attention to where they’d been going. He doubted he’d be able to find his way back to Danny’s without some kind of assistance. (Which of course he had, on his phone, it was more the principle of it... SEALs have better training than to let that happen.) He was scolding himself about that when it started to rain.

Danny began to laugh. “Well, isn’t that just fitting?” He said, loudly, up at the sky. “Go on then, you crazy island, rain on my misery.”

But Danny didn’t seem quite so miserable after that. He splashed in the puddles that formed by the side of the road, getting himself and Steve more than a little muddy in the process. Steve didn’t mind, and he wouldn’t have complained even if he had, because it seemed to be almost cleansing Danny of his guilt. By the time they got back to Danny’s place, though, they needed to wash pretty desperately. Steve suggested hosing off before heading into the house (hey, he had experience with this kind of thing, okay?), which Danny had maybe a little too much fun doing, but if it helped Danny feel better, Steve did not mind being squirted with cold water.

After they were mostly mud free, but now completely soaked, Danny dropped the hose. Reality seemed to have sunk back in, and he looked freshly glum.

“Oh, my god, I’m such a mess.”

Steve wrapped an arm around him, pulling him towards the house, knowing a hot shower would do him a world of good. “Yeah,” he said softly. “But that’s ok.”

Danny huffed out a bitter laugh. “Yeah?”

Steve pressed his lips together, closed his eyes, swallowed. “Yeah, Danny. It is.”

“You’re wonderful, you know that?” Danny whispered hoarsely, sounding like he might cry.

Steve smiled. “So are you.”

“No,” Danny said, shaking his head, sighing. “I’m really not. But, thank you for thinking it.”

Steve decided there were better ways to have this conversation and he pushed Danny inside. “I’ll make us some coffee, and I’ve got some special cookies. We can watch the next episode.”

A small smile spread slowly across Danny’s face as he nodded, and stepped into the laundry room, where they stripped down to their underwear, tossing their clothes in the washer. Danny threw a beach towel at Steve.

“’Fraid that’s all I’ve got clean at the moment,” he said, as they quickly dried off

Steve smirked. “I, uh, I actually brought clean towels.” And, wrapping the beach towel around his waist, he went to the living room, grabbed a towel from his bag, and handed it to Danny.

Danny looked like he was about to say something but thought the better of it, accepted the towel and headed towards his room. As Steve watched, Danny put the towel to his face and took a deep breath in, and when he let it out, it seemed to Steve his posture had relaxed. That was the second time Danny’d smelled something of Steve’s. He was beginning to wonder if Grace hadn’t had some ulterior motive tangled up in all of this somewhere. But he didn’t have long to dwell on that if he wanted to get these drinks made, so he headed to the kitchen to put the coffee on.

It took him a while to find the beaters—after several minutes of looking, he was about to text Grace, but then he found them, inside a mixing bowl, at the back of the cupboard. He hadn’t thought to bring sugar, but realized Danny would want his whipped cream sweet, so he started looking for that and fortunately the baking goods were shockingly well organized. But then, with Danny’s penchant for sweets, that wasn’t too surprising. There was even cinnamon and vanilla, and Steve decided that would be a nice touch. He got everything ready by the time Danny came into the kitchen, dripping from his still wet hair, but dressed in clean clothes. Danny threw the towel at Steve.

“Go get clean.”

Steve smirked, and headed to the bathroom, grabbing his bag on the way.

When he came back out to the living room just a few minutes later Danny looked him up and down, noting the change of clothes.

“Did you bring clean clothes to come to my house to cook for me? What did you think might happen?”

“Always be prepared,” Steve recited, finding it amusing that Danny commented on his having brought clean clothes, but not towels.... 

Danny laughed, and Steve nearly gasped because it sounded so much like “old Danny” to him. He found himself biting his lips together to keep from smirking too broadly as he headed to the kitchen to gather the things. He’d laid out a tray before, and a plate for the cookies, and while he thought for a moment about just bringing out the bags of both kinds, settled for two whole paper liners full of each, spreading them out on the plate in a way he hoped was aesthetically pleasing. He put a little extra whiskey in Danny’s mug, and on some kind of gut instinct, added an extra bowl of the whipped cream and a spoon, because something told him Danny would be the “complain the whipped cream has melted into the drink” type.

He set the tray in front of Danny, and watched his face for his reaction. He wasn’t disappointed. Danny’s lips quivered, and when he looked up at Steve, his eyes were brimming with tears. He shook his head slightly.

“Let me guess. Mint Milanos and Chocolate Brussels?”

Steve smiled. “Because they don’t make the mint Brussels anymore.”

“Do not get me started on that particular failure of the cookie industry,” Danny said, as he hesitated between the two, settling finally for the Milano. “You make the best, most perfect cookie known to man and you stop making it? Why, please tell me, Steven, why would they do that? It makes no sense.”

Steve had been warned that laughing at Danny’s outrage over this particular misfortune would be a huge mistake, but it was really hard to not smile a little. “I dunno, Danny. Clearly, they’re idiots.”

“Thank you! This is what I’m saying.” And he picked up a Brussels, looking at it as though it were to blame for its lack of mintness. He took a bite that seemed a bit aggressive, rolled his eyes a little, but then put the rest of it down and turned to Steve. “Thanks, babe. For all of this.”

“Eh, you should thank Gracie and your mother, they’re the brains of this operation.” He cringed a little after the words were out, but Danny was smiling hugely.

“The three of you would make a terrifying team,” Danny mused. “That’s for sure.”

Steve felt his cheeks heat and his heart warm at the idea. Yeah. The three people who love Danny most? They’d be quite the team. “Try the coffee,” he suggested, picking up his own cup.

They settled back to watch the next episode, and somehow, Steve wasn’t quite sure how he managed it, Danny wound up nestled against Steve’s side. Maybe he’d gone a little heavy on the whiskey, but Steve didn’t think that was it. It was comfort. He knew Danny was a creature of comfort, and he also knew that Danny had been far from comfortable for a very long time, trying to make things work with Melissa, trying to force a situation that was anything but easy. And, despite all their failings, all their disagreements, all their yelling and bickering and teasing and taunting, and despite all their frustrations of the past year especially, all the heartbreak and the horrible things, and the wonderful things as well... one thing Steve and Danny had been, always before, was physically easy together. So if Steve pulled Danny in a little more, and if Danny shifted a bit to get closer, well. It was just them finding that comfort again.

Danny didn’t move for the entire hour, and Steve didn’t think it was just because the episode was so captivating. He felt like Danny was taking something from him through the contact, and he started to feel that it was maybe not just comfort. Steve tried to keep his breathing even, relaxed, and fortunately, some of the action in the episode made for some reasonable reactions from both of them, Danny no doubt sending “see? Look how like you he is?” vibes, and Steve trying to send “shit, Danny, I’m sorry” ones back. But even through that, they didn’t move. If anything, Steve felt maybe they melted a little closer together, probably in their mutual “you reckless jerk”/ “I’m sorry I get hurt a lot” mental messages to each other.  At any rate, they stayed like that for the whole episode, and when it ended, neither of them seemed inclined to move.

“Watch another?” Steve asked, eventually.

“Mmmm,” Danny replied, and the vibrations from the sound reverberated in Steve’s body and he had to stop himself from shivering at the sensation. “Yeah, babe, let’s do that.”

Steve took a soft, slow breath and pressed play.

* * *

  
By the end of the third episode it was becoming either “let’s have a late dinner and keep going” or “we should probably call it a night” time. Steve was prepared to stay over if it came to it—Grace had given him an earful about that, about what all he should pack, including the towel suggestion, which had already paid off. He’d thought she’d been motivated by her concern for her Danno and her dislike of Melissa, as well as her love for Steve. But he was beginning to think she had something else in mind. Danny’s reactions to the treats, the show, and Steve’s presence in general had been wonderful. Grace clearly knew how to make Danny happy, and Steve was making mental notes to ask for more tips, believe me. But there was something else in Danny’s reactions that Steve couldn’t quite account for. It felt like he was allowing himself... something. Honesty? Authenticity? Danny’d talked about not being able to be who Melissa needed, which had angered Steve. How anyone could need anyone other than just who Danny was, well that was completely beyond Steve’s comprehension. And, the fact that Danny had “failed” at that, well. It seemed pretty clear to Steve that the failure had been in the expectation. So maybe what it felt like to Steve was that Danny was allowing him to just be himself. To not beat himself up, to not feel like he needed to be X or Y or anything else, but just to be. And maybe Steve was a little concerned that if he left, Danny would resume the self-blame, and, a voice whispered in his ear, that it might become even worse, for having allowed himself this time of just being. Maybe Grace knew that, maybe that’s why she’d made sure Steve would be prepared to stay over. And then Steve laughed to himself, because when it came down to it, he didn’t think there was any way he was going to be able to leave Danny alone that night anyway. He really didn’t think his heart would allow it.

All of which is the long way of explaining why it was _Steve_ who wound up suggesting they order pizza.

Danny looked at him, swear to god, like he’d hung the moon.

“We could get Chinese instead?” Steve joked, but Danny’s face had taken on the most blissed out look Steve had ever seen. “Um... Danny?” He said, trying not to laugh. “Would you like to get both?”

And that was clearly the Best Idea Steve Had Ever Had, because Danny _kissed_ him. Just on the cheek, but still.

Danny tossed Steve his phone. “Speed dial 8 and 9,” he called as he headed toward the kitchen. “You know what to get!”

By the time Steve had placed both orders, shaking his head bemusedly to himself the whole time, Danny was back with two glasses and a bottle of Riesling, condensation already beginning to coat the outside. He poured them each a glass, and sat back down, even closer, it seemed to Steve, than he’d been before. They talked, idly, about the show. Danny seemed sold on Hiddleston as the probable Next Bond, but Steve had his reservations.

“The thing I love about Craig,” he began.

“Other than his blond hair and blue eyes, you mean?” Danny interrupted, with an actual poke to Steve’s ribs.

“Okay, other than his blond hair and blue eyes,” Steve allowed, trying not to blush. “What I love is his relationship with Q.”

Danny actually pulled away from Steve and sat back against the arm of the sofa, the most amused expression on his face. “Okay, do tell,” he said, delightedly, and took a sip of his wine.

Steve set his glass down, turning towards Danny. “Well, obviously, Ben Whishaw is fantastic. But what makes it is the interactions between them. Their chemistry, if you will. And part of that, for me, is how they look together.”

Danny’s mouth had fallen open. It snapped shut when Steve rolled his eyes. “So, you’re basically saying Tom Hiddleston won’t make as good a Bond as Daniel Craig because of how he’d look next to Q?”

“I’m saying I have concerns.”

“This has got to be the most hilarious conversation we have ever had,” Danny whispered as he leaned forward to refill his glass.

“What, you think it would be okay?”

“Alright, I will grant you. It would be different. Probably very different. But I don’t think anyone else is going to be able to recapture that, admittedly fantastic chemistry the two of them have. I mean, really, Craig plays Bond as though he is smitten with Q, and Ben certainly has Q down as in love with Bond. Which, yes, is wonderful, and I’m sure makes for fantastic fanfic fodder. But, Craig can only go on for so long, babe. He can’t play Bond forever.”

“True. Of course. I just wish he would for a little while longer.”

“Alright, so if not Hiddles, then—” Steve laughed. “What, it’s what they call him.”

“'They,' Danny?”

“Grace and her friends, okay?”

“Uh-huh. And you regularly discuss Tom Hiddleston with your daughter and her friends?”

Danny blushed, actually blushed. Unfortunately for Steve, the doorbell rang at that point, and they lost the topic in getting the food dished up. By the time they settled back down with a fresh bottle of wine and their food, Danny suggested they just watch the next episode, and Steve made a note to ask Danny more about his obvious thing for Tom Hiddleston later.

They ate their food, finished the second bottle of wine, Danny wound up curled up next to Steve again, and by the end of the fourth episode, they were both well and truly captivated by the plot.

“Shall we just keep going?” Steve asked, smoothing the hair back from Danny’s forehead before he could stop himself. Danny made a sound that felt just like Mr Pickles purring against Steve’s chest. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Steve whispered, pressing play, and leaving his hand resting softly on Danny’s head.

They wound up going right into the final episode, partly, yes, because it was just that compelling, but also, Steve felt, because neither of them wanted to move. Steve certainly was not going to be happy to have to lose Danny’s warmth against his side, and he liked to think that Danny felt that he made a decent pillow. At some point, his hand had slid down from Danny’s head to his shoulder, and he’d been rubbing soft circles over the crease at his neck.

When the show ended, Danny moved just slightly to allow Steve more room, handed him a pillow from the pile that was still on the sofa, and pulled a blanket up over himself, clearly settling in for the night without discussion. Steve smiled, adjusted himself back on the pillow, pulled Danny in even tighter, and fell blissfully, if somewhat awkwardly, asleep.

* * *

  
Steve awoke in the night, and knew instantly that Danny was not with him. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw it was still dark. Then he smelled coffee. He sat up, and saw Danny, sitting at the end of the sofa, holding his mug, and looking at Steve.

“Hey,” he whispered.

Danny smiled, but it was a weak one.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He tried.

“Mmmm,” Danny replied, sipping from his cup.

Steve allowed his eyes to close for a moment, giving himself time to regroup, to pull himself further awake, hoping he’d find the right thing to say. He laughed to himself as he realized the irony of his thought. Because it wasn’t _him_ that needed to talk.....

“Wanna tell me about it?” He asked, sitting up, facing Danny sideways on the sofa, crossing his legs in front of him, making it clear he was settling in for the long haul.

Danny smiled, then pressed his lips together. He let out a heavy breath that seemed to Steve like it weighed far more than it rightly should.

“I dunno, babe,” he said, setting his coffee down. “It’s all kind of a tangle up there.”

“So let it, Danny.” Steve tried to smile. “There’s no rush. It’ll unravel when it’s ready.”

“But what if it never does?”

“It will, you know it will. It always does.”

“Unless this time it’s just... too much.”

Steve smiled. He leaned forward, needing to touch Danny, to try to ground him, bring him down. “It won’t be, if you let it work itself out when it’s ready.”

Danny huffed out a doubtful laugh.

“But coffee in the middle of the night isn’t going to help, Danny.”

Danny bit his lip and nodded.

“Why don’t you go sleep in your bed,” Steve suggested.

Danny shook his head. “Can’t.”

Steve had a feeling he’d just stepped on something he shouldn’t have. “Why not, Danny?” He asked, very, very softly.

Danny pressed his lips together. Swallowed. “Too many tears in there.”

Shit. _Shit_. The pillows on the sofa, the blankets on the sofa.... _Danny hadn’t been sleeping in his bed_.... for who knows how long, once Steve thought about it. I mean, this had been brewing for so long....

“Okay, buddy. That’s okay.”

Steve was utterly torn. He didn’t want to push Danny, but he knew sleep was important. So was talking. But Danny didn’t seem especially inclined to either one right now, and he wasn’t sure pushing either was a good idea. At the same time, getting Danny to cuddle back up against him, which was what he wanted, felt like maybe not the best choice. He got up and went to the kitchen, got himself a cup of coffee, brought out the bottle of whiskey and the bag of mint Milanos. He put the bag of cookies down on the coffee table. Put his mug down, poured some whiskey into his coffee, set the bottle down, leaving the lid off. He stood for a while, sipping his coffee. In the end he decided to sit on the floor next to Danny, rather than back up on the sofa, so that, if he wanted, Danny could stretch out, have some space. Maybe space was what he needed.... Danny smiled when Steve sat down, and let his legs fill the empty space. He held his hand out—for a cookie or the whiskey, Steve wasn’t sure. He put his mug down on the floor next to him, picked up both. Danny took the bottle first, then reached into the bag and took a cookie.

“What would I do without you, huh?” He asked, a little forlornly.  

Steve smirked. “Dunno, but you don’t have to find out, ‘cause you’ve got me.”

Danny bit his lip and a tear fell down his cheek.

“Hey, hey, buddy.” Steve put a hand out and wiped it away. “How many times have you been there for me? Sitting in the emergency room? Sitting by my bed? Driving me home when I refuse to go to the hospital?”

Danny laughed. “Oh, so you admit all those things, do you?”

“Of course I do, Danny. You’re what keeps me pieced together and still able to do what I do. You’re what keeps the team strong. You’re what keeps _me_ strong. You have to know that by now. Even if maybe I don’t say it as much as I should.....” He got up and found a box of tissues. Handed one to Danny.

“Thanks, babe.”

“My point is, Danny. You’re always there for us—for _me_. Just... let me be here for you, okay?”

Danny sighed faintly, and dove back in to his mug, holding his hand out, Steve assumed for another cookie, which he handed him.

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How is it different Danny? Huh? Because it’s okay for you to do it but not to take it?”

Danny pressed his lips together, closed his eyes.

“It doesn’t work that way, Danny. You can’t give and give and never take. You just can’t. You have to let me help with some of the mess. You’re forever cleaning up mine. Let me share yours.”

Danny opened his eyes and looked at Steve. He looked terrified, Steve thought. “Babe, it’s not that easy.”

“Sure it is, Danny. You just make it hard. Why? What are you so afraid of?”

Danny looked at Steve, and now he almost looked angry. Steve knew he’d hit on something, then. Kicked himself a little, because he knew Danny better than this. He knew. What was it Danny had told him he was always afraid of? Any time he had anything good, he’d said. He was always looking towards when he’d lose it.

“You worry too much, you know that? I’m not going anywhere. No matter what. I know it hasn’t seemed like that this past year, and I’m sorry. I will forever be sorry for that. But just stop. Please just stop. Give me your mess, Danny. I can take it. I’m stronger than you think.”

Danny sighed heavily but didn't reply right away.

"Steven...."

"Yes, Daniel."

"You don't really mean that." 

"Of course I do." It was really hard for Steve not to add, as he knew Danny would have, "you idiot" or some other term of endearment. Because one thing Steve had never understood was how in the past six years, it had not been blindingly obvious to Danny that Steve was completely and utterly in love with him.

"Danny," he said, softly. "Please look at me. I've never meant anything more." He swallowed. " _You mean more to me than anything_." His eyes narrowed, he frowned. "You know that. I know you do." He could see Danny fighting with himself, could hear the resistance, the tension mounting in Danny's mind. "It's a mess right now. I know that. And that's okay. It's always okay. But don't think for one moment that it's not mine too."

Danny was quiet for a long time.

"Steven," he finally whispered. "I don't know how long...."

Steve shook his head. "I know. And it doesn't matter. I'm not going anywhere. I'm more than happy to just sit here, in the mess, with you."

And he leaned back against the sofa, resting his head on Danny's leg, trying not to hold his breath. After a while, Danny's hand came to rest on the top of Steve's head, and he felt the tension melt from his body. It was as much as he was going to get right now, he knew that. But it was all he needed. He closed his eyes, and felt himself sliding back towards sleep. The last thing he knew, before he drifted off, was Danny whispering:

"Thanks, babe."


End file.
